


We'll Be Okay

by duvent



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duvent/pseuds/duvent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation about the possible changes that university can bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be Okay

Just as he enters a university building, Akashi hears steps quicken behind him. On impulse, he catches the handle, stopping the door from closing. A girl makes her way inside and thanks him before scurrying away with the rush of a deadline. Although it’s already a late mid-November evening, he wears a casual blazer and a light golden scarf, its colour rivalling the sheen of autumn leaves.

Stopping in a hallway, he sees that the door to his boyfriend’s class is closed. He imagines pencils scratching and the haggard breathing of a sleeping classmate in the back row. Someone will be at the seat by the window, gazing out, imagining themselves somewhere and anywhere but here. Chins will be propped on hands, in part to prevent one from falling asleep, in part to feign interest.

In four minutes, students file out, stuffing notebooks in their bags, and starting up conversations about where to go drinking. He spots a tall guy whose serious countenance marks him from the other faces livening up and raises his hand in a semi-wave.

“Midorima, over here.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I sent you a text but it didn’t send.” Midorima holds out his screen, and Akashi reads that he’s going to get out late because a classmate’s prolonged the lecture by asking about a question from last week.

“It’s fine,” Akashi says as they head out. This time, lagging behind the others, people hold doors open for them, albeit with only a brief touch of their fingers. “Don’t you think it’s a little embarrassing though?”

“What is?”

“This.” Akashi gestures to the space around them, to the two of them alone in that space. The lack of a breeze seems to anticipate the dry air and hushed sounds of winter.

“I’ve told you this before - but I was always the one watching you in middle school.” Midorima tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slumping slightly. “That’s more than a little embarrassing.”

“Not your obsession with luck? Sometimes I fear I’ll wake up and find a giant frog looming over me.”

Midorima laughs.

“I wasn’t joking.”

“No, it’s funny. Takao once told me something simil-”

Akashi’s mind freezes.

“-ar.” Midorima’s voice drops off, mouth closing off the sentence.  

Akashi picks up on his hesitation. Oh, he realizes. I think I’m supposed to be jealous. Instead, a pang pierces his chest, reminding him he was not always a daily part of Midorima’s life. He presses forward.

“And why not? It’s a scary thought.”

“Please. You’re not scared of anything.”

“But imagine it,” Akashi insists. “How terrifying would it be.” He tries to keep the tone of his voice unchanging; he doesn’t want Midorima to think he’s acutely aware of his previous relationships.  

Midorima’s laugh turns into a cough, and Akashi spots goosebumps on his forearms.

He throws him his scarf. “Don’t get sick, idiot.”

“Like you can talk. It’s chilly, and you’re not dressed for this weather.”

“Just take it. I’m naturally warm.”

“I wonder. Thank you though.” Midorima wraps the material twice around him so that the fabric reaches his glasses.

“You’re welcome.”

_Beeeeeeep_

"Sorry, that’s me." Midorima flips his phone open, glances at the notification and immediately dismisses it. "It’s just a guy from my morning lecture."

A silence falls between them, pensive and cautious.

Have the tables turned? Akashi asks himself. He remembers girls who have brought him lunch or desserts in high school, their effortless smiles returned with forced politeness. People change and see you in different ways, and now Midorima, seen as weird for practically as long as Akashi has known him, has friends that invite him out for group dates that he turns down with as much courtesy as he can muster. He mulls over the changes, having never had paid much attention to that sort of thing before. Do I think he’ll always be by my side? Akashi shakes his head, as if doing so can brush away the unease of having made a wrongful assumption.

“What the hell,” he mutters.

Midorima takes a glance at the pondering Akashi, and wonders whether he’s being overly conscious of their relationship. Also a thorough thinker, he can’t help but feel conscious as well.  

“I heard some of my classmates talking about me.” 

“Again?”

“Isn’t that _Akashi Seijuurou_?” Akashi mimics the high pitched voices of the girls, then the low laughs of the guys. Surrounded by loud whispers day after day, he is followed relentlessly by his classmates’ perceptions and judgements of him.

“Maybe because you still have an air of someone raised quite proper.”

Having expected that response, Akashi shoots back, “It’s not like I’m the only one, though.”

“How I am different from you now?”

“You just are.”

“But you’ve changed too.”

This conversation is going in circles, Akashi thinks. Is he even listening? “Okay, but somehow you’re less...” He scratches his cheek, waiting for the word to come to him.

“...on edge?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Akashi says, meeting Midorima’s inquisitive eyes. “I mean, this have-my-shit-together image that I supposedly project is hard to shake. At the same time, it’s a safe place to fall back on. It’s easier to fulfil what people expect of you than to recreate a new identity entirely - or maybe just less time-consuming for someone like me already used to living up to certain expectations.”

“I see.” Midorima reaches out and squeezes Akashi’s shoulder.

The gesture irritates him. “I’m not looking for your concern.”

“No? Well, I’m not concerned about you. I know you’ll be okay.”

Akashi sighs. “Yeah, yeah.”

Addressing the doubtful expression, Midorima asks, “At the very least, do you feel less stressed now? I do. We took things so seriously throughout middle and high school.”

“We still are serious, right?”

“Ah, but I had a crazy crush on you back then.”

Akashi looks at Midorima, who, of all things, is smiling with his eyes closed.

“It was a good crush,” he continues. “It distracted me from the pressure.”

“You make it sound like you don’t like me anymore.” Akashi puffs his cheeks out, deflated at the prospect.

“Would I text you every day if I didn’t? Would I ask you to pick me up from class? Scare you in the middle of the night with a frog plushie? Not yell at you when you steal the blanket?”  

“Stop with that already,” Akashi pleads. “I don’t steal the blanket.”

“Then you confess,” Midorima declares.

“Excuse me?!”

“Kidding.” Midorima fans his cheeks with the end of Akashi’s scarf, the tail ends dancing. “By the way, I might be able to study abroad next year.”

“What?”

“It’s a not-for-sure thing. Don’t worry about it - I'll keep you updated.”

“How I can not worry? I don’t want to do long-distance, especially for an entire year.”

“It’s just a possibility.”

Opening a new door, huh, Akashi thinks, resisting the urge to punch the nearest one. The glass structure with a heavy handle marking the entrance to the medical library taunts him, disquieting his frame of mind. “I just hate not knowing,” he says.

“Well, same. But since know what we want to do _after_ we graduate, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Still.” Frustration curls around Akashi’s throat, sharpening his voice.  

“So then what do you want? I support your goals, so I’d like the same thing in return.” Midorima tries to keep his voice steady, but it wavers a bit. Damn it, he thinks, gritting his teeth. He should’ve waited for a better time to bring this topic up.

“Shintarou.”

Midorima turns back. Without realizing it, Akashi has fallen a few paces behind him.

“Slow down. I understand. I got ahead of myself and panicked.”

Not quite registering how easily Akashi conceded, Midorima just stares at his boyfriend.

“We can take things as they come.” Then Akashi yells into the approaching night, “COME AT ME!”, arms outstretched, head tilted back.

Although the trees and their long branches droop over their heads, guarding their conversation, Akashi's resolution projects itself loudly. After his initial shock, Midorima tackles him with a hug.

Akashi swats an arm at him, using the other to steady themselves. “Not you, life.”

“Tell life I have dibs.”

Oh no, Akashi thinks. We’re becoming _that_ kind of couple. But because no one’s around and because of the comfort of Midorima’s arms around his waist, he indulges himself, letting the moment pass.

“We’ll be okay.” With an air of finality, he feels a nod etch itself into his shoulder.

Eventually, Midorima lets go and shifts his messenger bag to the other side so that they’re walking just a bit closer together in this muted night. Reaching out to each other, they are then both gripping the other’s hand, not because they are afraid the other will let go but because they want so badly the same thing. They lapse into a relaxed silence, knowing their thoughts overlap with plans and questions for the future, with predictions about all the possible changes. Moving closer to the life of the streets, to the swish of cars, rapid steps, and clicks of cellphones, a newfound determination exudes from their measured steps on the sidewalk.

Akashi’s lips curve into a small smile. No kings, no emperors. Just the two of us, and so much of the world that we have yet to see.

 


End file.
